Border of Life
by AnotherAppleJuice
Summary: This is a short story about the life and death of Yuyuko. Even in the worst moments there is always hope, even if it is a dim light that shines in the darkest hour.
1. Beggining

Life is a curious thing you know, just like a sigh, begins with the need of air in your lungs and ends with one final breath. All this may happen in the blink of an eye and yet many people can´t notice it. All these collections of memories that pass through our eyes as fleeting images right before our very end, it is what we love the most and also what hurt us. But as many of those who live in this world, does not notice this until death has come for us.

But what if death was always beside you?

What if the end of all life was your very own shadow?

And if death itself causes pain to those who you care and made everyone hate you, even if you did not do anything at all

Is that something you might call life? Living with more fear of people and what they do to you, just because they were trying to save their own life, at the cost of my own pain.

Nobody could call it life… and yet.

Although sometimes I have described that I cannot control death, I still do not know when will I look into its eyes and say that my time is over.

Still, I remain hopeful that everything happens for a reason, that those terrible things have happened always and that they are not wrong. I believe that the gods got their own reasons to let me keep breathing up this day.

My life has been very lonely all these years, locked in this temple, guarded by people that I have rarely seen through the windows, monks that pay a visit sometimes just to check if I am still alive. There are priestesses that look at me with hatred and repulsion during ceremonies and rituals that try to purify me, even if not a single one have done anything at all.

Very few dare to come closer than ten feet away from me. Everyone is so distant, always praying, always clinging to life. Life that I can steal so easily.

I was born fifteen years ago as the first and last child of the Saigyouji family, under the name of Yuyuko. Since childhood I was rejected by my father, who at first seemed to be very happy with my birth, but then he change after my mother death several years later. That one day when she hugged me during the night and stayed right beside me while I slept. My father reminded me of that every day he comes to visit me.

He reminded me that I was to blame for the death of my mother.

The priests and Buddhist monks who visited the family mansion after the burial of my mother, were horrified to feel the presence of death hovering around me, although I cannot quite remember the words that were expressed, I remember very well that I called a monster.

After that day my life would not be the same again.

My father, sad and angry, took me out of the house and locked me up at a nearby temple, where they built a small mansion for me only, the prison where I remain up to this day.

I was only six years old and I was denied of the happiness of childhood, I could not explore, I did not learn to run or jump, I did not play with other children nor enjoy the passing summer.

They stole my freedom.

The first days of my imprisonment, my father visited me just to check that I was given the right services. A couple of women came in at that time, they taught me how to dress, pray, cook, wash, clean and other things I should know for my time in solitude. Then my father and those priests strictly denied everyone to have any kind physical contact with me, saying that to approach within six feet away from me could be dangerous. So, those women taught me from afar, and as I tried to mimic what they were doing, they told me if I was right or not.

The loneliness of the first week was very difficult for me. With six years and with no one to talk to or to play with, none to sit beside me during dinner or anyone that give me their love and understanding, I started slowly falling into despair.

The first days lamenting myself, mourning the death of my mother and my own confinement. Spending all day sitting against the corner of my room, like a punished child who was waiting for her father voice to say that everything is okay. Sad and discouraged to do something, not even hunger could make me forget my pain of being alone.

The days passed and I began to think a little more about what happened, I thought my father was a fool and that he hated me for something I did not commit. I would have never wanted my mother to die; I would never hurt her or anyone else.

So was I hated?

Why did locked me in this place?

What am I doing here?

I was not to blame for the death of my mother and just for because those priests, who filled with my father ears with those lies. They are the real culprits of my confinement, my loneliness.

I began to feel hatred for those who looked at me through the window, at those who passed at certain times to bring bags of rice, vegetables, meat and water. Those damn monks who looked at me with horror and then turn their faces away right before praying loudly. They were the ones that kept me locked. I thought of the hundreds of things they said to my father, and that kept me still here.

-It's a monster!-

-Death haunts around her!-

-This devil child!-

-It's a demon!-

-That girl is dangerous!-

-Stay away from her!-

-Don't be fooled by her looks or she will steal your soul!-

To hear so many bad things in those days only fueled pain in this lonely mansion.

Finally I could not handle any more of it and started screaming desperately, I felt impotence in front those double doors when I pushed them with all my strength. I strike them again and again with no results. Then I started yelling all my resentment and feelings out loudly.

But the reaction I got from them was very different.

I heard footsteps at the other side of the door before a brief silence, but instead of help after I began to cry all I heard was the laughs of those monks ...

Hate.

It was all I felt. Despite being only a child I could feel that pain inside me growing into hatred. I began to think of all those priests, guards and women I had seen those weeks. Then I imagined everyone laughing at me and saying bad things about me again.

I fell down on my knees crying, I could not control it, so I shout desperately as I wanted only one thing in this world.

I wish to no longer see them alive again.

Afterwards I started to hear noises and footsteps on the other side of the door. As I stood motionless wondering what happened. My doubts were answered, when I saw one of the monks opened the door.

His eyes stared at me, full of hate.

So that was how hatred is reflected?

I walk backwards slowly as fear fill my mind. There was something that tried to pull me away as I watched how he pulled a metal object from his clothes. Then I stood motionless, as he approaches me slowly. In that moment I felt something cold that passed right next to me, it was a strange thing back then, but now I know that it was death haunting around me again.

The monk took that sharp object and then run it at me. I was really afraid as I could not even scream when he was in front of me. I heard a loud noise and opened my eyes just to find that the monk fall at my feet. He did not stumble or slipped, he just stopped moving that instant.

His face got no expression and his eyes devoid of all life.

It was just like my mother that day; I realized that he was dead.

Cautiously approaching my hand to his face I remembered he was the one who had brought bags of food the day before.

But why had he hated me so much?

I noticed that the door was open, so I forgot that he died in front of me and a strange joy came over me. I wipe the tears and walk to the door. Without noticing I had a smile drawn on my face and my mood just recovered.

I approached the door and pushed hard, I wanted freedom and all I could think of was to run away from there. But then I felt that the door got stuck on something and could not be opened more than half. I looked through that gap to see outside, just to find out there was a dead monk leaning against the door.


	2. Tragedy

He was dead

His body was staring at me with an empty look as I walk over him. He was engulfed by the eternal slumber just as time frozen. I watched around me just to find that there was more of them. I was horrified to see them, all those monks and guards that just a few minutes ago were talking and laughing of me. Now everyone was dead, with no exception. Everyone got the same expression as they seem to have fallen with no resistance.

Perhaps I was to be blamed for this?

I wished so much to never see them or heard of those people again.

A cold feeling ran down my back, a strong shiver pass through my body and I felt the presence of something unseen hovering around me. Something dangerous and terrible was floating beside me at the moment.

Never in my short life had I felt something like this. Not even the hate of the monk that tried to kill me or the impotence I got when I was scolded by my father, the sorrow of losing my mother or the loneliness of the last few days that filled me with despair in this temple.

Nothing compared to this. It was my own survival instinct that was desperately yelling inside of me.

I slowly began to turn my head and body in the direction of that ominous feeling.

A part of me was trying to run from this place and seek refuge at my house, even if I lost myself in the woods, it would be better than to remain here. Yet my own curiosity was in need to be satisfied.

At that moment I watched with my own eyes the very end of life itself, that fleeting moment when a person is about to die.

This was nothing compared to the stories of how the gods of death do their work, or even how the judges of hell condemn souls. This was very different.

To describe it would be difficult, as I don't know many words that can be of any use.

It was a brief moment that transcends time, as a bird that stops its fly in the sky, and if I can try to explain it in simple words I would only say that life is like a thin line that floats in midair just like a thread that disappears into nothingness when the strands are cut.

I think that humans cannot comprehend this process entirely, and that's why everyone has their own idea of what death is like.

But when I watched it, as a six year old girl, I felt a terrible sadness and grief myself, suffering to see someone else's life ending.

But the true terror happened next because watching a dead person is one thing and seeing what actually caused it was entirely different. Few would understand what death is really, even I don't get it quite right.

All life begins and ends, that is a fact. But right at the very end, something appears to devour the thread inside its black existence. It's hard to say it had a real form itself, as it looked as a black spot that slowly disintegrates the existing life in the person. Even now I don't know it something like that really exists in this world.

Then it disappeared as it vanished in the air.

I remained there without blinking or moving a muscle for a few minutes as I stared into the eyes of the dead body.

I exhale and fall into the ground as I try to regain my breath yet my mind remained blank.

What was that all about?

Why did this happen?

After a few hours, I realized that I was still surrounded by dead bodies scattered on the ground. I get up in silence and I slowly go back again through the door and closed it behind me.

I approached the dead man who had tried to end my life and take the sharp object in his hands, a short sword. I took it with me to my room and there I lay to sleep. My mind still did not assimilate what was happening so I decided to rest and think about it during sleep.

I slept for three days.

When I woke up I still had the weapon in my hands and the feeling that the world was no longer the same as before.

A strong smell came to me suddenly so I leave the sword in my bed and wen to check what it was. The bodies near the door and the entrance were starting to rotten due to the heat and rain of the last days.

I watched the body of the guard near the door and imagine about the others outside, yet I did not wanted to approach them. I feared that he will rise and try to hut me, so I kept my distance.

I did my other activities, like walk the aisles, prepare my meal, watch the clouds in the sky, in the interior garden or sleep in my room. But the fetid smell of death was everywhere.

Four days passed.

Then I included in my activities, taking a look at the dead bodies and mourn for what happened. Now I could never go home again, I can´t go to the nearest village or get close to anyone alive or else they will die because of me.

So for hours I blame myself for their deaths. I knew I was innocent and ignorant of my own curse.

Then a week passed.

I no longer wished to continue my life locked here, but it was the only option I had for now. I prayed daily for hours, as all I wanted was that everything to went back to normal, just like it was before coming to this temple. I asked the gods for my own release, I wanted to free me of this curse.

I wanted my life back, I was willing to do anything for it, even if I had to pay for all the deaths I caused that day. I didn´t care anymore about what price I needed to pay, but I wanted that this nightmare to end.

Yet nothing happened.

So again I went to the dead body near the door, and sat looking at him, wondering why he was so angry that day.

Thus the hours passed until I heard screams on the other side of the door. I was so scared when it started, because at last the bodies of the dead had risen and they were coming for me. I kept watching the motionless body of the man in front of me waiting until he wake up and kill me.

But he did not wake up.

My father opened the door and looked at me with disappointment. I perceived sadness and discomfort on his face. From behind him a pair of monks appeared and covered the body with a blanket and took him away.

As they lift the corpse the scent of death filled the entrance again.

_-Monster… You shall never leave this place-_

Those were the only words I heard from my father that day.

Several women came into the mansion to clean it, including the place where the corpse was trying to remove the foul odor. Other monks brought food again and new guards took the place of the fallen. So everything went back just as the early days of my confinement, but with one difference, my father came here every morning.

Every day I cried as he reminded me of how useless and unworthy I was, then he told me how sad and pathetic my existence was, as my life was worthless and that the only good thing that will ever happen to me would be the cruel fate that awaited me in hell.

_-As long as you live I will remember you the deaths you've caused!-_

_-Twenty__people died because of you!-_

_-Why did the gods has punished me with a monster like you?-_

_-__All the life you stole from these people will lie on your shoulders forever!-_

_- You will never find forgiveness for what you did!-_

The words of my father were the same every day, as he yelled his hate and frustration at me. People of nearby towns hated me too as the monks spread rumors about a monster that could cause death in people just by watching them.

The years passed and my life seemed as a sad repetition that increased the pain inside my chest.

This routine and solitude had taken over my life and my heart, as I slowly die because all my hopes and dreams are destroyed each day with the harsh words of my father.

I can no longer stand this kind of life.

It's been four years of loneliness and sadness, agony and pain.

That night I went into my room, I lie down and take the short sword of that guard, as I always had under my pillow.

I have decided to end my suffering.


	3. Hope

I was lying in my room staring at the ceiling. I began to remember every single word that made me suffer. I was alone and desperate as I never had the chance to talk to anyone about my pain, not even my father.

It was as if my life ended the day I got locked here. Like the day I killed all those people or the day I take my mother's life .

My mind kept repeating those phrases over and over again, increasing my torture. I wanted to stop thinking, but it was impossible.

The only hope that my depressed self could think of was suicide as if taking my own life was the last choice. But I feared of not seeing the sunlight again, of not being able to look at the sky wishing to fly just like the butterflies that live in the garden.

They were my only friends in these four years, with whom I was able to show at least some affection and love for. I watch them since they were small larvae until their transformation into those beautiful white butterflies. They were the only insects that grow in the garden, I search for more but apparently no other animal live nearby, not birds or rats, so they were safe all their young life until they were able to fly away.

But even now I lost the strength that they used to gave me.

I no longer wanted to live in this prison not I wanted to keep suffering. Yet I did not know if I had the courage to take my own life, after all I was a small ten year old girl. Also the words of eternal torture in hell that my father told me were not entirely encouraging, those judges of the other world sound very frightening.

But was sure I wanted to meet them and receive my punishment?

I was still over my bed, the tears that fall from my eyes start to hurt as well. I felt so sad that death seem to be better than to keep with this kind of life.

I picked up the short sword and bring it to my chest. I figured that if I put it into my beating heart, would be enough to die. I knew that from my father because there were times when he got so mad that he say that he would keep telling me the same words until his heart stop beating.

I took the weapon the best I could and pointed it at my chest. Then it was hard but I push it slowly as part of my tried to resist it. As the blade pierce through my clothes I felt like my mind was yelling but as the tip of the sword cut my skin, my mind stopped.

I cried harder, as now there was blood started to flow from my wound. I felt that it stained my dress as I start to feel a lot more heat in my chest.

But then I realize the name engraved on the blade like there was an ornament of cherry blossoms in the black hilt. At first I thought it was a reference to some sort of ritual or religious passage, because the meaning was "spiritual soul and mind"

This kanji could refer to the family of that monk. It can be read as "Konpaku"

That man I killed could no longer make his dreams come true. I take away his hopes and joy the same day I took his life, as I also stole his future, the chance of having a family and also a dignified death. I reap away all from him the same moment he fall at my feet.

I realized I never knew his name…

I suddenly stopped and removed the blade of my chest. The wound was not deep but it was enough to keep bleeding for a while so I pressed my hand against it and then I stand up.

I walked into the garden hoping to see butterflies once again, but there were none. I returned to the hallway and closed my eyes as I sat there. I felt the wind on my face, I heard the movement of the trees and for the first time here I felt relaxed and calm, in both mind and spirit.

Life was painful and cruel, but that was my punishment. It was the payment for the death of my mother, the monks and guards. At that moment I choose to accept my own death and of those that I killed.

I would no longer live for myself but for every one of them. I died at the time I pressed that blade against me but it was also that sword that reminded me of them so it granted me a new life.

When I realized this several hours passed so I went into the back of the mansion which was connected with a hot spring. As I enter the hot water, I felt something very different as if this was the first time I went there. The red in my clothes washed away in the water, I felt a sharp pain on my chest as the heat went inside the wound and through it into my body as if healing it from all the pain.

After that day everything was different. I started to smile every time my father yelled and scolded me. I began to speak to those monks who came to the mansion with supplies and to the guards behind the big double doors, even if they rarely answered me.

I watched the sky and felt that I got no more weight over my shoulders.

Soon I got enough courage to interrupt my father in his regular morning speech and asked for books for me to read. At first he refused, but my persistence finally won and soon I got them, even if I didn't know the meaning of all the symbols at least I could try to learn it for myself.

I enjoyed every time I prepared my meals, all the time I took care of the garden, the water in the hot springs and as I read a book or a poem.

Soon the days went better and time began to flow without difficulty.

-Five years have passed since then and still in days like this one I´m thankful. If things didn't happened like that I would have never enjoyed moments like this- I told the butterflies that flies around me. Sometimes I repeat this story to them, even if the answer is just a swift moment of their wings or the wind that passes by.

-I´m also thankful, your story is so sad but full of hope that I never get tired of it-

There was a feminine voice that came from the middle of the garden. I was shocked because I was supposed to be the only one here. I lived alone in the mansion so the only possible people that could be around would be the priestesses that came here now and then.

I began to slowly walk across the path in the garden and watched that there was a woman standing under a tree. She was wearing a purple dress and was covering the sun with a parasol, as she turned around as her blond hair waved in the air.

I don't know why but this unexpected visit made me very happy.


End file.
